The Revenge Of Janus
by Covington
Summary: Edward E. Nigma and a recently recaptured Killer Croc are ready to be prosecuted and sent to Jail due to the the collective efforts of Batman and Gordon. Now all that's left is for Harvey Dent to prosecute them but, Harvey has other plans for Batman...
1. Prologue

You can't save a life. You can aide a life, you can support a life and you can destroy a life; but, the action of saving a life is, in fact, impossible. A life will do what it wants; the human brain makes its own choices. If it wants to make a mess it will make a mess. If wants to create peace and protection, then it will create peace and protection; however, if it wants to create havoc and destruction it will create havoc and destruction. Often in the case of the 'real world' heroes don't exist, villains and things of that sort are everywhere and heroes are, in fact, events of courage that come and go like the clouds in the sky.

There are, sometimes, actual people who could be mistaken for heroes. Their ideals and actions are mostly of the heroic nature so inherently people think of them as heroes. They fight the scum of the systems and the hold a shield to the swords of the powers-that-be. They're relentless fight is painful and heartbreaking, the more they do the more that comes. It is these people that inspire future 'heroes'. Eventually they must fail; that s the nature of life: 'you win some you lose some' in fact is you may win some; but, you _must_ lose one eventually". Their biggest feat is to create a something everlasting, a chain of heroes that will step over and over to counteract the villainy that exist. To be a hero you must think and to be a villain you must have an, apparent, lack of thinking; and, because of that heroes are destined to fail every time. Time takes its course and deteriorates the human mind. Thinking because harder and the hero mentality begins to fade into the shadow of seniority. There are; however, worse things that can happen to a 'hero', something worse than physical destruction. Mental destruction was always the saddest and single most terrible thing that could happen to a hero. When the hero is in his or her prime and something steals from it's capabilities of thinking clearly, people choke. It's a scary thing to watch and even more offers a sense of helplessness to the common folk.

The News reported: "In our week long exclusive look at the 'heroes' of Gotham we've taken a deeper gander at some of the common people who have helped Gotham a better place in the past, this week we're looking at heroes of our present time and what better time to do this on the week two of Gotham's most notorious criminals are to be arraigned and sent to federal prison. Today's focus is on Harvey Dent; Dent, who has been called the 'greatest D.A.' in the world, has put most of Gotham's high level criminals in prison. His relentless effort to make Gotham a better place has made his name a household item and his image a welcome one. Graduating from law school two years early Harvey Dent immediately returned to Gotham to help with the growing domestic and legal problems, despite offers from Washington D.C., London and the People's Republic of China. Dent started as a tiny fish in a sea of sharks; but, soon showed that he had his share of bites in him too. In his first year of serving Gotham Dent prosecuted a record two hundred and fifty criminals successfully and quickly became deputy D.A. After an unsuccessful attempt on his life, by the mob, Dent fought back against the mob, being the only D.A. to openly challenge the mob by refusing insanity pleas for known mob members. Within two years Dent was able to bring the Gotham mob to it's knees and stood as the leader member in Gotham's legal system quickly ascending to the title of senior D.A. of the greater Gotham area and becoming the youngest person to hold the title. Gotham's Dark Age would put a shadow over Dent's efforts and glory very quickly. Dent was unable to enjoy his glory as a new wave of criminals entered the city from the embattled New York area. Dent found himself as one of the primary targets for criminals; but, Dent never let threats stop him from publicly speaking out against those criminals. In a historic event Dent called on the G.C.P.D. and the citizens of Gotham to not harbor the criminals anymore and to 'shake the foundation of this land until these criminals fear for their own safety'. Dent would see a dramatic increase in people reporting crimes they witnessed; but, the G.C.P.D. was falling apart upon itself and failing to bringing criminals in. Rumors of criminal corruption within the system started to spread and Dent spoke against corruption; but, as more criminals slipped in between holes in the system or just weren't being brought in, people began to lose faith in the system that existed. Dent did what he could as D.A. to stop crime; but, fell short due to the corruption. But as you all know that's not where it ends, tomorrow we'll be talking about our next addition to the 'Heroes of Gotham' , James Worthington Gordon and his efforts followed by a report on the mysterious Batman the day after, be sure to join us for that and goodnight."

The T.V. clicked off and the room sat in darkness for a long moment before the light came on. On the couch he sat there with nothing to say, in his hand his coin, he flipped it into the air and it came down slowly into his waiting hand. He turned it over onto the back of his left hand and looked at it. There was no emotion at the result, there wasn't a single give away in his expression just a stoic stare into nothingness.

You can't save a life.


	2. Prologue II

Chaos!

The rain fell from the sky like droplets of rage from heaven; to make it worse the wind swirled the rain around all about them in a spiraling whirlwind of confusion and mayhem; and, to make that worse the sea was absolutely unkind under the boat, the boat jerked left for a moment and then even more violently jerked to the right before centering and crashing over another wave and doing the whole sickening process over again. The groan of the boat lurched like a grotesque belch from a behemoth monster struggling to get the strength to stand after a battle with a larger monster. The dark sky; shadowed with clouds, licked at the boat like an enraged dog to a bone with the cold and salty sea air staling in the late night/early morning hours. The creaking of the cheap wooden floors played almost rhythmically to the crashing on the waves, like a perverse song. _Crash, creak, crash, creak, crash, creak, boom, crash, creak_. Sometimes the ship would shudder in the crashing and it felt as if the whole boat would snap in half like a toothpick under the pressure of a huged finger villain; but, it didn't, it held, despite what it's body threatened it would do and it crept ever closer to Gotham dock at an alarming rate. The sky was dark save the giant glinting eye that stared down on them with a malevolence of an angry god ready to smite its people or bring ruin to an empire that stopped serving and started commanding. The shine of the moon was much like a spotlight glowing on a stage; the pools of water that dotted the boat deck like holes to a slice of Swiss cheese glinted in the celestial light. Diamonds on a dingy world, dancing in the waltz of the ship that laid on the brink of complete destruction.

The captain did what he could to keep the boat as steady as possible; but, the mere strength of a man against the girth of the boat was absolutely nothing. He jerked just as wildly from side to side desperately holding on to the control of the boat to keep himself from being tossed out of the room and into the rain. His mind also tried to stay calm and from falling over to either side of sanity; everything happening was far too much for him to digest right now. All he had to do was dock the boat and then he'd get the hell away from the boat as quick as possible, easy plan; steer, dock and then run as fast as possible. It was raining like the end of the world out there though, in an attempt to get to Gotham as soon as possible the boat had ran right into a depression that was to weaken miles into the Atlantic ocean; but, sense they had decided to rush the trip the boat was stuck in the middle of it and there was no way to get out; except docking this god forsaken boat and going home or to a hotel or under a bridge, just as long as it was away from here. The crew had their own hands full up on the deck, so he didn't bother to ask for help; he was an expert at this and he knew he could dock this boat; but, he needed to keep that…that thing on the deck. The captain closed his eyes to relieve the blurring that came from the tearing, just a little long he told himself.

Just a little longer.

The explosions of bullets came repeatedly like a dangerous tap dance spewing deadly lead into the deck and wet metal. The shadow kept appearing and disappearing into the dark corners of the boat, the rain pounded down so it was impossible to make use of their hearing all they could use was the limited sight that they were granted by the light of the moon. It wasn't going to help them much and they knew that. The plan was not to stop or kill Batman; but, rather to keep him busy long enough get the boat close enough to Gotham City; from there the crooked politicians and police officers would protect the goods on the boat and the job would be done either way. Either way they'd get paid, even if it meant sitting in a cell for a night or two; they all knew it would take forever to prosecute them because the court system was backed up to the city streets. As of now; though, dealing with the Batman was going to be more trouble than it was seemingly worth. When you hear about a killer on the news you say 'god how awful, what kind of person would do that?'; but, when you actually meet that killer, that sensationalized phenomenon, that, slightly, surreal creature, you see something you haven't seen before. A vileness, some kind of sinister malevolence that you missed on the telephonic screen. That was what these men were seeing right now, they knew of Batman; but, in real life he was nothing how they imagined him to be. The Batman was a shadow that moved from one place to another with a fluidity that rivaled the sea under them and the rain around them. Bullets moved fast; but, fear moved a lot faster and at this rate these people were going to be in the running to break the speed barrier. Each shot became more erratic as time went on and they were doing more damage to the boat than to Batman himself. Thunder crashed and for a moment the Batman was visible; more gunshots followed; with more of the same results. The crew were coming in from Afghanistan via Cape Town and Miami; their three month long mission was finally complete and their shipment was more than six hundred pounds heavy. A lot of people in Gotham, Detroit, New York and Chicago were riding on the safe entry of the product to the individual cities. They would travel from Gotham then to New York and then throughout the rest of the country from there in what was being called 'care packages'. Each shipment would represent a finger on a massive hand that was ready to grip the country; but Batman had anticipated the events and was prepared to do whatever to ensure it did not go as planned.

The grappling hook shot out of the gun and latched onto a flag resting at the highest point of the ship; Batman's body jerked and sped straight up onto the very spot the hook had caught. Bullets followed; but, screamed harmlessly by him, the only thing that touched him was the rain. Swinging from the flag for a moment Batman saw away into the interior of the boat, he pressed a button and the grappling hook released and he fell towards the small hatch at a breakneck pace. Batman's body hit the hatch and it snapped open like a mousetrap suddenly troubled by its victim. Landing on his feet Batman had no time to survey his surroundings, some thug swung a wrench and Batman dodged, a quick backhanded fist landed on the man's face and forced his head roughly back onto a large piece of machinery; the man's body floated lightly for a moment and then hit the ground. Batman looked around; he was in a narrow passageway that lead to on, either end, a large room. To his left Batman assumed was the engine room and to his right, must have been the cargo hold. Quickly he ran to the cargo hold and was confronted by a large steel door with a wheel for a handle. Batman put his hands on the twisting wheel and pulled as hard as he could, without warning the boat made a harsh jerk and then a loud groan and he fell over violently. Aggravated with the lack of progress Batman took out a Batarang and tossed it at the door, the batarang did not stick in the door; but, was caught by the twisting wheel, the blue light on the batarang flashed twice and then exploded; simultaneous to the explosion Batman shuddered; he always shuddered when using the exploding batarang every since that night he couldn't use it and _not_ see the image of-

The boat lurched forward and Batman was spilled through the door and as a result into more gun fire than he could deal with. While the gunfire worried him the fact that he guessed right about this being the cargo hold comforted him. There were around two hundred large wooden crates marked in afghani, some of them rested on the ground the others were being suspended by support cranes that extended from the railings all around the room. Batman fired his grappling hook and was hastily pulled to the crane and with expert precision released the grip and was catapulted onto the overhead railing. Quickly Batman picked up a steel pipe and swung it, hitting the nose of a gun and sending the gunfire to the roof, he swung again and the man holding the gun fell to the ground. Batman crouched to avoid all the other gunfire coming his direction. Nimbly he fingered his utility belt until two small objects that greatly resembled hand massage beads. Batman moved them around as such and waited until there was a small break in the gunfire. Quickly he tossed the objects over the railing and blocked his eyes with his arm and cape. Even with his eyes clothes and protected by his arm and his cape he could see, briefly, the entire room when the flash bang went off. For a moment in time daylight had reached the entire world and even Batman's eyes were stunned momentarily. Cries from the men all over the room went off like fireworks on a display and Batman was quick to stand on his feet. Every person in the room, save himself, was moving about in a blind rage, the room even appeared blurry to him a little. He took note that he would have to tell Luscious to make the bang more powerful and the flash less intense; quickly his body moved over to one of the cranes that supported the crates. Batman inspected it to see if there was a control panel; but, to his dismay it seemed that all of the cranes were operated by one counsel down on the main level; for a moment he considered going down and using it; but, already some of the men were regaining their sight. Batman cursed to himself and climbed on top of the crane and took out a sharp razor edged batarang and began to chop at the rope that connected the crate to the crane, the crate started to swing and Batman hacked at the thick rope as hard as he could until finally there was a loud snap and a sharp jerk from the crane that threw him onto the railing and the crate down to the floor below. Batman heard a very loud crash and a sound that resembled thunder cracking followed by screams from the men; he got up quickly and looked down, the crate had smashed like glass onto concrete and canisters rolled around on the ground and several loud hissing noises came from the canisters. Unaffected by the outcome Batman raced to the next crane and jumped atop of it like the last and began to hack away again, as he hacked he counted how many of the cranes and crates were left. Five cranes and thirty five groupings of crates and judging by the amount of time it took him to hack threw the last rope and now this one, the majority of the men would have their sight back before he could finish. A bullet came horrendously close to Batman's face and he jerked back in surprise, he looked at the floor below, all of the men were still blind; but, their rage was subsiding which meant the effect of the flash bang was also subsiding; Batman hacked faster and within moments the crates crashed to the ground. Now back on the railing Batman knew that his current situation was getting worse by the moment, there was no way he was going to be able to cut through all of these ropes before: #1 the men started shooting at him again or #2 the boat docked. It was a race against the odds for Batman, he knew just as much as anyone on the boat that once the ship was docked more henchmen would arrive and the G.C.P.D. in all its corruptness would arrive and make the situation as clean as they could, by shoving all the problems under the rug. Someway Batman had to make this crime as dirty as possible there had to be an undeniable factor in this crime so James Gordon could probably dispose of this scum.

Batman jumped off the railing to the floor below and disposed of some of the still blinded, but recovering, men. On the other end of the large open room, there was a keypad that seemed to control the opening and closing of the cargo hold to the outside of the boat, after seeing the canisters rolling about he knew what he could do to muck up the situation as much as possible, all he had to do was crack the code. Batman began to press the buttons; but, to no avail. Batman reached to his utility belt and took out a device that would attach to the keypad and unscramble the code and open the cargo hold; but, upon getting the device out the keypad was shot into oblivion and the cargo hold remained closed. Batman cursed and saw that the cargo hold was leaking water just a bit; that meant it wasn't sealed, which also meant that it could be opened with enough pressure going the right way.

Dodging some more bullets Batman through himself to the side and tossed a batarang and hooked it on the wrist of his assailant, the man fell over and his head smacked hard against a steel canister that was different from the ones that came out of the crates. Batman rushed to the canister and read the bold letters that spelled 'Propane'; he thought for a moment what good this could do him, he looked around for more canisters and found that there was a group of canisters in the center of the railing on the left side. Swiftly he swept up the canister and used the grappling hook again to get himself to the grouped propane canisters, the men below were starting to come to again and with a quick swiping of his hands Batman cut off the top of the valve, the hissing from the canister began and Batman was quickly away. Batman punched a man in the stomach and stood behind one of the men holding a gun and then kicked the man behind the knee cap, the bone could be felt snapping out of place and the man let out a great scream, Batman then took the man's gun and took two shots in the opposite direction of where he was standing and thusly away from the propane. Like copycats the other men started shooting in the same direction. Quickly Batman saw himself out of the cargo hold and back on to the deck with swiftness never before seen by man. The rain was still coming down and now it could be even worse than it was before; but, none of that mattered because this boat ride was about to come to an end.

Batman ran (and slid) to the captain's cockpit and slammed opened the door, instantly the door was countered slammed by a group of men on the opposite end and the door was closed again. Batman slammed in through the window and all the men rushed at him a pair of punches and most of the men were knocked to the ground and Batman was grappling a gun as it fired madly around them. The captain screamed as the bullets rained around him and he was thrown to the ground by another crashing wave. Batman tossed the gun out the window and knocked the last of the men against the wall with a force that shook the already shaking boat. Batman grabbed the captain by the back of the neck and applied pressure.

"Ok, Ok I'll stop the boat!" The captain yelled loudly; but, Batman didn't release him.

"No, you're not going to stop…" Batman instructed with a cool violence. "…you're going to speed up." The captain stood bewildered; but, made no objecting motion or comment as Batman put the boat into full throttle. One last time Batman shot the grappling hook out the front window and grabbed the captain and blasted off into the night air.

By morning the storm had drifted out to see, leaving Gotham dock wet; but, peaceful in the warm hugging of the early day sun. The waves, gently crashed against the burnt and broken cinder that was what was left of what was left of the destroyed boat and dock. The new Gotham security system was an automated barrier that put itself in place whenever a collision occurred on the dock, on either end of the collision a pair of large steal doors sealed in the collision keeping the wreckage from spreading further into the dock and keeping survivors from floating out to sea. The doors stayed sealed until two high ranking officers came and manually inputted the security code to release them.

The press gawked and snapped from either end of the wreckage and in the center a few G.C.P.D. cars sat quietly in the early morning dew.

James Worthington Gordon, Chief Lieutenant of the Gotham City Police Department, stood on the very end of what was left of the dock holding a plain white coffee mug and sipped on a hot coffee with cream and four sugars, the sweetness helped him cope with not having a cigarette. Gordon has decided to quit smoking after a, newly escaped, Killer Croc had almost blown him up his police cruiser with a cigarette in a leaking gas station. After that, traumatic, event Gordon told himself that he needed to find a vice that didn't have the potential to cause him fatal bodily harm.

Gordon took another sip of the sweet; but, very enjoyable coffee.

"The shipment is coming in tomorrow night; I haven't got the man power to take them down before they dock and once they do that one of these crooks is going to have half of the drugs off in New York or somewhere else…" Gordon said to Batman sitting in his chair looking over some useless files.

"Then I'll have to deal with it…" Batman said in a low growl. "…how many pounds did you say-" Batman began.

"Two hundred and sixty five pounds of pure opium to be divided and converted into grade 'A' morphine and thusly heroine…" Gordon sighed; he fingered a particular file and thought about what Batman was thinking sitting in the window behind him. "…even _if_ I brought a crew down there to meet the boat I'd have my hands full with the armed men and someone would get off with some of the dope." Gordon explained.

"Then the drugs will have to be rendered useless, that'll send a message to the crooks that planned this whole thing." Batman explained; Gordon frowned and he thought about all the options.

"What could you do…? Gordon asked.

Silence.

Gordon turned around to see that Batman was no longer sitting in the window, all that was there was the night. Gordon sat there for a moment and thought; but, he knew somewhere that Batman would figure it out.

Back under the sun Gordon laughed at what Batman had said two night before 'then the drugs will have to be rendered useless' he thought. Gordon has sat all day thinking about what would come of the boat and now here he was standing in a broken Gotham dock staring at a destroyed boat and pounds upon pounds of opium floating in the water. If any of the crooked cops were here it wouldn't take them long to figure out that there was absolutely no way to separate the drugs from the water without drawing suspicion and attention to themselves. The opium was being kept in one place too thanks to the steel doors and in that sight Gordon had everything delivered to him on a platter, including a very talkative man who was supposedly the captain of the boat.

"Chief Lieutenant…" one of the officers tapped Gordon's shoulder and he turned around with a smile still thinking about how much the crooks had to be panicking.

"Yes?" Gordon asked; the man gestured to the police car.

"Someone on the horn for you." Gordon nodded and turned back to the opium, boat, dock wreckage; he tossed the remainder of his coffee into the water and went back to the cruiser.

'Back to work' he thought.


	3. Batman for Lunch

Bruce Wayne tried not to seem to go out of his way to be humble; some millionaires did that. They insisted on eating with the common people, or teaching at schools every week, or some other benign action; and, while it was all good and well it occasionally seemed very forced and tended to be highly marketable. Bruce actually did, sometimes, wanted to eat with the 'common' people and did not say that only to make himself seem more accessible. So when he insisted that the table in the restaurant was too big and asked for a smaller table he was unpleased to see a few, not cleverly hidden, frowning faces. Regardless, Bruce got the smaller table and was the last to sit. The round table today would sit three people; Bruce sat and took a small sip of water out of nervousness.

Bruce Wayne was doing well for himself; Wayne Enterprises was growing at a rapid rate and aside from the business Wayne was in a state of life that he wouldn't trade. Of course these times didn't always exist, it had been five years since that day and two years since Bruce had been declared 'well'. Those three years between had been the worse years Bruce had seen since the three years immediately following his parents death. The sickness affected everything in his life, he was fortunate to be alive and even more fortunate to be mentally stable enough to live amongst other people. He had a lot to be thankful for and Alfred was the highest on the list, if it wasn't for him Bruce wouldn't be around right now. The next was Selena, after the 'incident' Selena didn't stray away from Bruce, instead she became closer. The two were highly speculated in the media, the large diamond on her finger brought a lot of attention to camera's; but, all they could get out of either of the two of them was a terse 'no comment'. The closer they became; however, the more Bruce had to try to hide his other life from her. His fears became more detailed; he can suddenly see the things that could happen to Selena, before it was just a random, vague and general idea of what could happen to her; but, as he dealt with more criminals he saw who their minds worked and Batman was amassing more and more serial criminals than ever before. It was becoming so bad that he started to know these criminals better than his own workers in Wayne Corp and if they were to find out more about him they would stop at nothing to bring him as much pain as possible. On the other side of that was the fact that Selena was not an idiot; Bruce found himself having to be very careful when inviting Selena to his house. Selena now had the tendency to snoop around quietly and carefully; she'd touch books, move chairs, this, that all to see if Bruce was hiding something from her. Bruce found that keeping Selena in the dark was a full time job because she was as cunning and meek as a cat. The third person to be important to his life was also the newest, he was a young millionaire who took humble beginnings and came up with the first fully functional electrical eye.

His name was Richard Grayson and he was a very benevolent person. Bruce had come to know him while ordering ultraviolet eye lenses for a specialized Bat suit, Grayson had expressed his extreme respect for Wayne as a business man. A mutual business relationship started from there which eventually lead to a close friendship. The two began to meet one another in social gatherings and then outside of social gatherings until they were seeing one another for 'business lunches'. Growing up with no parents, being the odd ball of the school and living a torturous early adult life, left Wayne with friends few and far between, so when Richard appeared out of the blue it was a welcomed surprise. Of course every rose has its thorns; Richard was extremely cautious of Bruce in a strange way; Bruce _knew_ Richard suspected something just from the amount of products Bruce ordered on the behalf of Wayne corp. Aside from that people knew very little about Bruce's life, and it was seemingly impossible in this day and age for someone with so much power and so much money to remain secretive. Yet somehow he did, no one knew what he did on the weekends or on late nights. Richard was more of a rising star cameras followed him everywhere and he enjoyed it; even Bruce had to admit that being followed sometimes wasn't as bad as it was made out to be. Anything to get away from that cold dark cave and that black suit; the further he was from it the better he was able to live his life. Bruce found some celebrity in just being around Grayson and was on the news more now than when he was kidnapped all those years ago. Wayne hadn't talked about the ordeal publicly, thinking of a story to tell the press was just too difficult for him as he was trying to deal with running Wayne Corp, Batman and keeping his mind intact. Lately though the incident kept coming to mind because the anniversary was coming up; he was forced to think of it, plus the anniversary of his parent's murder. Things always got tricky around this time; Bruce had to remember to stay calm and most all to concentrate. He couldn't let his thoughts run free or else he'd become a victim of himself again.

People in the restaurant looked at the three of them, gawking and being severely obvious in their being 'star struck'; the three of them dealt with it the best they can. Richard ignored, Bruce did the same with some minor glances at the people and Selena shyly tried to hide behind a menu. Richard put the menu down and sat looking at nothing for a moment; Bruce noticed this.

"What's wrong Richard?" Bruce asked; Richard seemed to snap back into the there and now and gave Bruce a warm smile.

"Nothing; just thinking about business…" Bruce went to say something accusatory; but, Richard through his hands up. "…I know, I know. I broke my side of the deal." Richard confessed; Bruce laughed.

"That means lunch is on you." Bruce reminded; Richard put his hands flat on the table.

"That's fine; just as long as you don't order the steak." Richard sighed. The waiter was at their table quickly and Bruce made a point of ordering the steak and convincing Selena to order the lobster; Richard made sounds of pain throughout and ordered a salad and a drink to 'keep his wits' when he got the check. After ordering the three spoke about life in the last week; Bruce and Richard explained they're last meeting had seen them in the gym doing acrobatics.

"I was surprised to see Bruce so good at acrobatics; you don't suspect rich playboys like him to be able to do a somersault or two." Richard said; Bruce laughed. The last time they had met was coincidentally outside of Gotham Goro Gym, the most expensive gym in the eastern side of the United States, Bruce was walking by and Richard was going in. The two got to talking and, in the end, began to show off in a private quarter. It was no surprise to Bruce that Richard was so skilled in acrobatics; as a young boy he traveled with his family in a circus as a trapeze artist; until they were killed, after that he worked through high school in two years and graduate college in two and a half years. Richard then used his inheritance to start a program to help blind people see better with the use of Seeing Eye dogs and technology. That's when he came up with the formula for the first working electrical eye and made his millions of dollars. Richard was the type of person who was very opinionated when it didn't come down to making money. Crime was a problem for everyone; but, sometimes more so for people with high status. When something went wrong in the city, the 'wealthy' people paid for it with lose wages and services. It pained Richard to see Gotham, and any other city, in such disarray. Whereas he was doing something good for people in one way, he felt people needed him in another way.

"Well one has to stay in shape somehow…" Bruce admitted. "…I don't get many kicks sitting in an office signing checks all day." Bruce finished.

"That's not true…" Selena interjected. "…You're left arm has become very fit from signing all those checks." Bruce laughed; it was a silly thing to say and obviously said to keep everyone aware that she was, in fact, still sitting at the table.

"Well my ambidexterity has allowed me to work up quite the muscle in both arms." Richard flexed both arms and Bruce rolled his eyes. Richard was a show off and everyone knew it. In his tight black dress shirt, Richard's muscle bulged and seemed to strain the very fabric of the shirt; with his right arm he squeezed his left arm's muscle and raised an eyebrow.

"Be careful there Richard…" Bruce began. "…If you bust that shirt, that tab will be more expensive than this restaurant and meal." Bruce joked; Richard flexed a little harder and when the shirt seemed to be on the very end of its restraining ability Richard stopped flexing and placed his hands, folded, on the table like a school boy.

"You're right; I've already got your steak and lobster to worry about." Richard's drink came and he took a sip happily. The T.V. by the bar spoke softly; but, everyone seemed to focus on it at the same time when the report began to talk about the hearings.

"It's about time those criminals got put in jail." Richard said with a concerning amount of anger. Bruce stared at the screen intently for a moment; but, unfocused in the fear that he would seem too interested.

"I agree, it's a good day for Gotham…" Bruce began. "…James Gordon has done so much to try to bring peace to this city; he deserves a metal." Bruce was trying to steer the question away from the obvious.

"Yeah, him and that Batman character…" Richard started; there was a note of suspicion in the way he was speaking. "…I have to admit, his delivery is a bit odd; but, his service to the city is undeniable." Richard explained. Bruce lightly rolled his eyes; revealing he wasn't particularly smitten with the conversation.

"I disagree; it takes a brave man to do something so…" her voice purred in an uncomfortable sexuality. "…outrageous for the greater good of his city." Selena finished. Richard shrugged and the food came to the table.

"Still you have to wonder about the actual man…" Richard thought out loud. "…As far as we know he's not like Superman or this new 'Wonder Woman' in Gateway city. He doesn't stop trucks with his bare hands, or fly. As far as we know this guy is human which means he's vulnerable, which means he's hiding somewhere under the visage of an 'average' person." Richard explained; Selena nodded in agreement and Bruce cut his steak and forced it into his mouth.

"Goodness this steak is good." Bruce commented to deaf ears. For a moment there was a silence as Selena stared at the lobster, unsure of what to do with it. Bruce found the silence comforting; but to his dismay Selena responded:

"I think its James Gordon" She said; Bruce, caught by surprise, coughed loudly and began to choke on his steak. He regained him composure and assured the other two he was fine.

"It could be…" Richard said deep in thought. "…He's always seemed very secretive." Richard took another bite of his food; it was then that he did something that only Bruce caught. In a flash; he gave Bruce a sharp look; something Bruce couldn't instantly respond to simply because it was so surprising. As quickly as the look formed it was sucked up into a brash smile and a sip of a drink.

"It could be anyone" Bruce said; suddenly unable to find any other words to say; he hoped that his word would put an end to the conversation.

"You know who it could be…?" Richard suddenly interjected with a new thought. "…Harvey Dent." Richard offered looking directly into Bruce's eyes.

"That's not such a bad thought…" Selena agreed. "…He always seemed like a crazy animal person." She summed up.

"Well the fact of the matter is that whoever this 'Batman' character is he's got a lot to worry about." Richard began to think aloud; Bruce was suddenly stabbed in the chest; it wasn't as much of what Richard said; but how he said it. It seemed to be directed towards him; something deliberate and sharp.

"Like?" Bruce couldn't contain the question in his gut; it fought violently through his stomach; clawed up his throat and erupted with purpose out his mouth.

"Like the people he cares about; if someone was to find out who he was; I would think those people would be the first to suffer the consequences." Richard explained; Selena would interject the conversation and successfully end it by saying:

"All this talk about Batman I'm starting to think maybe the two of you have a little man crush on him." But before then there was another moment that seemed to last for years; an eternity of strange understandings and misinterpretations. In that moment Dick Grayson seemed to look right through Bruce Wayne and right at Batman; in that moment Bruce felt beaten.


	4. Croc in a Cage

"…_Too long has it been since this city was besieged with corruption and violence; too long has it been since mothers have had to watch their sons and fathers watch their daughters die in the streets for no better reason than the fact that they were outside when some thug decided he wanted to complete some form of a vendetta against another thug." He exploded with furious vehemence that spewed sincerity and anger. The crowd yelled back at him in agreement and stirred heavily until his mouth opened to speak again. "How long Gotham…?" He asked. "…How long are you prepared to let this reign of terror grip your city, your lives? How long are you willing to let these mafia thugs lock your doors and board your windows? How long?" He exploded again; this time slamming his fist down on the podium in a display of force that drove the people crazy with emotion. "Not another moment…!" he stretched each word out in quick sharp bullets. "…today is the day when we as a people say 'enough', when we as citizens of this country say 'enough' when we as a species on this planet shout 'ENOUGH'!" the people yelled enough as well; they cheered, they clapped, they hooted and hollered. In this moment Harvey Dent was the god of Gotham city. Before Batman there was Dent; the young district attorney; with the shocking ability to speak directly into people's soul and gain their trust with his fine good looks and humble smile. Dent was the perfect savior; born in Gotham then whisked away for safety and a promise at a better life; he returned despite the dangers to directly counter attack the villainous crime mob that held the city so tightly. Dent showed something that no one else in Gotham had seen yet; and that was a lack of fear. The mob was prideful; the mob was loud, the mob was dangerous; but, Harvey Dent seemed not to care; he took the leaders names and shouted them out into television screens, radio microphones and whatever else he could find without so much as a care. "It's time for Falcone and Maroni to know that we will not be hostages in their child's play with adult weapons. Falcone and Maroni must know…" and here was his signature; he said it wherever he went and the people knew what was happen and shouted it with him. "…they will be brought to justice…!" the six words hit the air like thunder; it seemed that EVERYONE in the world had shouted them; the ground shook; the air trembled and Harvey Dent knew that somewhere in this city a criminal was second guessing his career. Standing on the steps of city hall was Harvey Dent and a group of a few thousand; the snow was coming down lightly and the chill was snapping at everyone. The collective breaths of air coming from the crowd's mouth caused a small fog under Harvey, so he looked like a god standing over his people under a cloud. Harvey pointed to the crowd. "You will bring them to justice…" he jutted his thumb to his own chest. "…I will bring them to justice and no crooked, cop, bookie, flunky, lackey or politician can stop us!" If it were possible the crowd roared even louder; even Harvey found himself almost knocked down by the sheer force of the excitement; this is what he wanted; when he went to law school the one thing that kept him focused above all others was repairing the city he was born in; he watched throughout his teens as the city got worse and worse and seemed to burn to ashes right before his eyes. When he graduated high school he didn't even take a summer vacation; and opted to take the next summer course in college. Dent knew he could save Gotham and people like Carmine Falcone and Salvatore Maroni became instant enemies. "Take solace in knowing that they fear us; they wave their guns and shoot their bullets; but they cannot kill us all. Where I might fall one of you will take my place and together we will bring order; justice and peace to our city!" Harvey bellowed, feeling as if he was yelling right into the belly of the beast, the confidence was flowing now; he turned to city hall behind him. "…That building used to be the symbol for justice and harmony; it used to instill fear into the hearts of criminals and hope into those who stepped inside for help; now it does the opposite, now our criminals can't wait to sit in front of a judge and our prosecutors fear going to trial. Not me; I will prosecute anyone and everyone if need be! No thug or crook will intimidate me…!" Harvey looked to the people nearest the street, it was a minute thought that flowed through his head; but, he noticed that there were absolutely no people in the street; despite the fact that all the streets leading to City Hall were closed; maybe it was a precaution. "…We are going to take back the streets and fight with a force that the cowards like Falcone and Maroni have never seen before!"_

_That's when he noticed it; why hadn't he seen it before; the cops on the block were pushing the people onto the sidewalk for a reason; the car came tearing down the street like a bat out of hell; no one could hear it though because of their shouts of support. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion; and Harvey felt his body move too slow; he tried to move out of the way; but, he couldn't. His body jumped and the explosions came._

_Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang!_

_With every explosion Harvey felt the pain rip through his body; he hit the ground in regular speed, and the shouts of people and one quick car turning the corner filled his brain; red blood was draining from his body. A man came to him and Harvey felt something he hadn't felt in years. A rage like no other, a feeling; without thinking his hand grabbed for the man's gun; something in him needed it, something in him was screaming at him. The man was quick to grab Harvey's arm._

"_Mr. Dent!?" The man yelled._

_Who?_

"…_Mr. Dent you're going to be alright."_

_Am I?_

"_You've been shot."_

_I know; I know who did it; Give me the gun, I'll fix it._

"_You're going to be alright."_

_I know; but, will they?_

"_Can you hear me Mr. Dent?"_

_Why do you keep calling me that?_

"_Mr. Dent?"_

_Not me_

"_Mr. DENT?!"_

_Not…_

_Me._

It was the belief of several psychologist that the use of clean white lighting could subdue thoughts infused with anger and rage. So the G.C.P.D. ornamented the holding cells for 'high level' criminals with bright fluorescent white lights. Most of the guards who had to work in this environment found the lights to be painful; headache inducing, and so they were outfitted with special helmets that protected their skulls and eyes from the piercing lights. There were four level of security in the holding facilities of Gotham; blue, yellow, orange and green (blue being the lowest green the highest) the use of 'green guards' use to be red; but, after he was admitted the first time and viciously murdered 25 guards they underwent stronger training and adopted the new color. Their weapon's positions varied depending on their writing hand. For a right handed guard the 'shock stick' laid on the left side and their gun on the right. Aside from that they were all trained in various martial arts and self defense arts. Ninety nine percent of the detainees would never give the guards enough trouble to use these skills.

Less than one percent did and he was that one percent.

He was seven feet tall; though he stood with a hunch which brought him down to a mere 6 feet and 8 inches. His skin was of a texture like leather and tattooed over to make large scales (each one to represent times he was sent to prison apparently) muscles that bulged like small children heads all over his body. He had broken his jaw more times than he was sent to jail so it jutted out slightly grotesquely; his hands were massive, fingers like thick pieces of wood and nails filed to sharp points that made horrifying claws. His legs were, in fact, bowlegged; though, one would have to be looking for the deformity in order to see it, and massive. When he walked the ground would tremble at the light touching of his feet. He wore a clean wife beater shirt and brown pants; usually he was rambunctious and talkative; but, today was different. Today he stood upright; but broken elsewhere. Seven various types of arm constraints had to be put on him and thirteen leg constraints as well as a muzzle; even then he wasn't completely restrained; but, at this time he was docile and knew that if he escaped he'd be back within a weeks time. So he walked silently and slowly in the middle of four guards and through the halls equipped with laser sensors and sharp shooters on the roof.

Killer Croc has easily made himself one of the most notorious criminals in Gotham City. He was a huge man who was animalistic at best; a former body builder who was involved in an accident resulting in brain damage; Croc adopted the "survival of the fittest" mentality and used it to justify his bank robbing actions. Croc, indeed, was the most fit and almost impossible to take down and saw each and every battle as an opportunity to prove his worth to himself. When Batman appeared Croc went into a psychotic rage that couldn't be explained by anyone except being jealousy. The two sparred several times before Croc's capture and sent to prison; this was alone month before the infamous "Bat Signal" explosion. After the dust settle from that Croc was able to free himself; but, once again was found and bested by Batman and because of the severity of his last escape (killing fifteen people) he was liable for a huge jail sentence time this time around and was going to be prosecuted by Harvey Dent; this almost assured his continued being in prison for the rest of his life.

Almost.

There was always someone in this city to bribe; even the guys with 'morals' and 'values' could be bribed. Sometimes it took money; sometimes it took something a little more severe and immediate. The point was though, that Croc knew who was weak in the city; he could smell the weakness; so many people were struggling and all they wanted was a piece of the, rhetorical, pie, Just enough of money to get them out of this city to New York or Metropolis (which in these days wasn't fairing too well with Lex Luthor owning practically everything) to start over without the fear; without the hold of the mob. Fear was an easy emotion to exploit. Once it set in, it never moves; every action one takes is to appease that fear; to find something to hold over the fears head like leverage. Money was usually that leverage, few have it and everyone wants it and Croc had plenty of it stashed around the city, in the sewers, in people's homes. Over the years Croc had amassed a small fortune; and realized that he didn't need it. Between being in jail and running from the under-competent G.C.P.D. Croc never had time to spend it, and, even if he did could he? Could he walk into a store and buy something without everyone assuming he was going to rip them to shreds? In his past Croc had dug a large hole that now he was paying to get out of. A life of crime suddenly seemed too long all Croc wanted now was to live a normal life away from the wrist restraints and bright lights. Croc knew to do that he would have to someone avoid this prison sentence and he had a good way to do it.

One of the green guards opened the door ahead and there was a tense feeling of anticipation that fell into nothingness when Croc did nothing. The room they entered was another brightly lit white room; the difference was that this one had windows in them and lawyers sitting on the other side waiting for their clients to be revealed. When Croc entered everyone in the room took notice; but, he himself did nothing and walked over to the corresponding chair and lawyer and picked up the phone. In his hand the phone looked like a feeble toy that could be broken at any moment; but, there was a strange delicate way that Croc held it as he pressed it to his ear and mouth.

"What happened?" Croc's voice had been silent for so long now that when he spoke the air around him parted and vibrated; it was arguably possible for Croc to speak without phone and still be understood.

"He wants money of course…" the man spoke "…and a lot of it." Croc seemed disinterested and didn't move a muscle; not even his eyes flinched.

"Money is the least of his problems now that he's made a promise…" Croc's voice became agitated; and the people around him tensed up, he calmed. "…how much does he want?" Croc asked.

" One hundred thousand for the spring, and another fifty for the cover." The man backed away slightly from the window; Croc noticed and took disgust from his cowardice, but didn't agitate again.

"He can have it; I need to be released first." Croc explained; the man seemed to relax just slightly and nodded.

"That won't be a problem so long as he gets a down payment between now and-" The man started.

"Twenty five thousand can be found under Scott's flower ship on Ease Street." Croc interrupted. The man took out a paper and wrote the information down.

"You have to understand tomorrow you will probably officially prosecuted and sentence with the blessing of Gotham's D.A. He can't stop that; you'll have to spend sometime in prison before the deal can go into effect." The man explained.

"I understand that." Croc tersely answered; his muscles rippled slightly causing both the man and the guards to perk up.

"At most it could be a month…" the man started.

"No more than seven days; for a hundred thousand he can get me out faster than that." Croc rationalized.

"You have to understand these things take time and-"

"Seven days; if it's more than that he'll be very sorry he made this deal with me." Croc put the phone down and stood up, looking away from the man; the guards sprung up and took him out of the room. Everyone else in the room looked at the man who was talking to Croc, until he got up and left; He to the cold dark of the night and Croc to his brightly lit cell with no more room to do anything but think.


	5. The Missing DA

"_**I use to have a father once…"**_

_The grey was becoming of the occasion; it couldn't have been set up any better. There wasn't one part of him that really wanted to be here; yet, there was something inside him that insisted that he be here. An hour of signing forms and verifying who he was and he was now walking down a strange hall; with this strange feeling on his skin. The air tasted stale and the cold was damp and slightly rank as well. Everything about this place was putting him off; everything about this place was telling him to turn around, run away and not look back; but, his feet kept moving forward. In the past there were two mental asylums; not just Arkham, the second was Gotham National Asylum; it was built to incorporate the less fanatical and dangerous mental patents. Gotham National though would be closed down in the future because of Arkham's ridiculous skyrocketing budget. Gotham National wasn't the prettiest of places; which sparked a lot of investigations from patient advocate groups; but, essentially, it looked like that because of the mood. Most patients had a large square cubicle that was enclosed on three sides by concrete and the last side by glass; with a little mail slip on the bottom right corner. When he was in view of his father he stood there watching him from the darkness for a moment. The man he had once thought of as his father, was sitting in a chair talking to himself, distracted by something he held in his own hand. On the walls were pictures, violent ones that depicted pain, control and death. It was then more than ever that he wanted to turn tail, run away and vomit. He hadn't seen his father in a decade; he hadn't thought of his father in a decade; and now being here reminded him of everything he ran away from to begin with. There was a seat facing the glass window and with some courage he walked out from the shadows and sat in the seat. He was surprised to see that his father was attentive and was looking at him when he sat. For a long moment they both sat there staring at one another; both similar in looks, one older. It was like being in a fun house where; depending on which side you sat, showed you your older less sane self or your younger less secure self. _

_Was he to speak? _

_What could he say? What would you say to a man who ruined your life all those years ago, to a man who beat and abused you until you couldn't scream for help anymore, until you became to accustomed to it that you began to WANT to feel the pain just so you knew you were still alive? He could yell; but, what would that prove? Yelling at a psychotic man who probably didn't know who you were was not the most productive of actions. Maybe he'd speak first; so he sat there staring into the man's eyes. He had to speak._

"_Hello dad…" Instantly he wished he hadn't said that in that way; he sounded like a little boy. This was the new him; he had to show him now that he had changed, whereas his father was the same. "…how have you been?" He stood up straight and had the incredible urge to straighten his tie; but, he refrained from fidgeting. _

"_Hello son; I'm alright…" His father answered. "…and you."_

_Shock!_

_Was he really speaking like this? This wasn't he expected; he expected yelling, he expected screaming, he expected uncontrollable laughter; but not, not, sanity._

"_I'm well…" the answer came slowly. "…It's fathers day." He explained._

"_I know…" His father answered with a smile. "…how could I not know?" he asked with such certainty that it seemed to be bragging._

_Was this the father they took him from? Was this really the same man, or had they switched him with a man who didn't deserve to be here? He rubbed his hands over his face and tightened his tie. He couldn't help fidgeting; this was his father; out of all the people he was to face in the bellows of Gotham only one of them could make him sweat and make his heart beat and that was this man._

"_I came to say happy father's day…" suddenly the guilt was beginning to set in; he was starting to feel wrong about those ten years of ignoring him. "…I figured I'd make up for these last few years by coming to see you now." He offered; he knew what was coming, a tirade, or an empty answer, something that would make his effort that much less meaningful._

"_I know; all that good work you've been doing, you can't be around to see your dad all the time…" his father spoke with unprecedented sincerity. "…you have to protect all those people."_

_What was happening? This was wrong; this was a sick, twisted joke or nightmare that he couldn't get out of. All his life he looked for acceptance from his father and now? NOW of all times he was going to get it? Behind some glass fixture sitting in a dark damp room of an asylum; this was not fair._

"_You know of my work…?" His own voice was weak and slow moving; like a child, the child he still was somewhere._

"_Of course...!" He answered with so much jolly and pride. "...how could I not know of the great work my son does?" _

"_I didn't know that you kept up with my life."_

"_Sure; you saving all those helpless people from those horrible scum…" His father thrust a hand out at his son, pointing right at him. "…you, being the hero for those who don't have the ability to protect themselves."_

_He couldn't resist smiling; suddenly his life meant something more; he felt a burning in his eye and a cool relief. Was he tearing? Damn it he was; his father seemed not to be noticing, so if he didn't wipe it off no one would know._

"_That's good to know pop…" His smile was large and expanding by the second._

"_oh pish posh…" His father spoke. "…here let me give you this." his fathered gestured at the mail slip and they both leaned over. His father pushed it open and put his hand on his sons hand and put something in it._

"_Thanks pop…" he said almost inaudibly. _

"_For my son…" He began to open his hand to see what his father gave to him. "…Hercules." It was at that same time he saw the coin his father had laid in his hand. The smile raced off his face. Suddenly this feeling; a tightening in his chest, he breathed deeply and tried to ignore the feeling. All he wanted to do was break down the glass and beat that man in it to death._

"_Hercules?" Harvey Dent asked._

"_Yes, my son…" his father confirmed. "…Zeus son." _

_Harvey Dent; cursed in his head and the rage was climbing up to his mouth; he had to close his eyes and concentrate; concentrate on pushing back this feeling. It was like trying to stifle a monster that was kicking and screaming and yelling. In his head Harvey kept saying 'go away' and 'not now' ; but, the voice kept saying 'let me out' and 'let me handle this one Harv' and then it was gone._

_Harvey Dent stood up and his father looked disappointed._

"_Going so soon?" he asked. Harvey flipped the coin and noticed that it was double sided; but, one side was scratched to represent tails._

"_Yes." And Harvey Dent walked out of the asylum, his father would die a year later from pancreatic cancer; Harvey Dent would never see him again._

"_**I use to have a father once; but, he died when I was ten."**_

She fanned herself; the sweat dripped quickly and with a steady pace. The courtroom wasn't air conditioned because of a recently failed ventilation system. It was torture, torture beyond torture; the heat had been in the high eighties for the last nine days; along with the humidity it felt worse. The woman two seats down from here kept saying '…but it's a dry heat' as if to justify the unbearable conditions. It was annoying her; almost as much as the waiting was.

Dana Harlow has been waiting for years now; for this day, the further waiting was starting to drive her up a wall. Her husband used to be a guard in the maximum security ward in Gotham Prison; when Killer Croc was admitted the first time by Batman; her husband was killed in Croc's deadly escape. Harlow wasn't a damsel in distress; the first thing she did was march down to Harvey Dent's office and deliver the news. Upon hearing the news Dent offered his condolences; and assured her that he _personally_ would prosecute Croc; she believed him; but, her faith in the city she lived in was less than shaky. It took too long for the G.C.P.D. to find Croc again and the collective efforts of Batman and Chief Lieutenant Gordon to bring him back to jail. Since then she had been waiting for the clogged up system of criminals going to trail and then being let go on an insanity plea of some sort, and today was the day. At two in the afternoon the quick prosecution was to begin leading to a recess of a day that would, with no doubt, lead to a guilty verdict and Croc, along with the other guy, would be extradited to a nation prison and no longer be the problem of the shabby "justice" system within Gotham City. It was now Two-fifteen; which meant that the prosecution was late; and the prosecutor was Harvey Dent.

Without a doubt; _everyone_, feared that Harvey Dent wouldn't be able to serve after his life altering accident; but within a year he was released from the hospital and trying to fight for is right to remain D.A. of Gotham City. That was the point where everyone was worried whether or not Dent was going to be mentally fit enough to assume and keep up the role. A national debate occurred; but, ultimately it came down to Harvey Dent showing Gotham he was able, and that's what Dent did. He went back to prosecution; but, the state of the city was too much to make any progress; today was the day everyone was waiting for. Today would show the other criminals out there that Gotham was going to fight back and prosecute anyone and everyone who dared to stand foot against it. These two criminals would serve as an example for everyone out there even thinking about crime; this would be the moment where Gotham would turn itself around and shed it's 'city of crime" image. But for Dana Harlow it would just be the day where her husband's killer would get what he deserved.

For Curtis Robinson it would be a similar day; but, his focus wasn't Killer Croc; today was the day _two_ criminals were being prosecuted: Killer Croc and Edward E. Nigma; or as he called himself "Riddler". Riddler wasn't like Killer Croc or some of the other criminals out there; brute, bank robbers using fear to take over a domain. Riddler was a psychologist who studied patterns of the human brain. Nigma was a genius man who had gone too far with his work. While studying the threshold for pain and rationalization Nigma took Robinson's brother and another worker and locked them in a room; deprived of light and food. Nigma then submitted to the men several questions (which he referred to as 'riddles' in his confession) and when one wasn't able to answer correctly they would receive some sort of punishment (Nigma claimed they ranged from a cut to an electrical shock to a gunshot wound; but G.C.P.D. investigators found fresh needle marks and heroine in each of the men's system and believed that Nigma subjected them to those kinds of torture as well) Robinson's brother, Michael, faired better than his fellow worker who was unable to answer more questions and subsequently died from his wounds; at that point Michel was given several choices of actions to take that would test his ability to remain sane and rationalize; including eating the flesh of his former friend to keep from starving. Nigma was eventually found out and Michael was treated for his wounds; but, his ordeal left his clinically insane and he was admitted to Arkham Asylum shortly thereafter. A debate ensued afterwards regarding whether or not Nigma could be tried for a double murder sentence; many argued that Michael Robinson was as good as dead; others argued that sanity couldn't be traded for actual human life. Eventually Nigma was released of the second Murder charge; but, still faced multiple life sentences for fraud, Murder, and misuse of public funds. Nigma showed no remorse; in fact, he couldn't understand why people didn't praise him as a hero; being as he was breaking boundaries with his research. So he sat on the podium silent and uncaring.

Robinson watched the scrawny man sit there and felt the heat pressing down on him; there was nothing more he wanted than to watch him thrown into a cell and rot for the rest of his life, and today was going to be the day. At least it should have happened by now; the trial was to begin at two in the afternoon; it was now two-twenty seven and the prosecution had not begun; because the prosecutor, Harvey Dent, had not arrived yet. Robinson looked at his watch; was it usual for a D.A. to be late like this? It didn't seem like this should be happening; even the judge looked a bit surprised and aggravated; Robinson looked around and from what he could see; everyone was fanning themselves trying not to pass out from the extreme heat; except from one man sitting in the back wearing sunglasses; he just stood there watching the front of the room. He didn't even move; for a moment Robinson wondered who he was; and then he looked back at Nigma and the thought of the other man was gone before he could think any more of him.

The man who didn't move and wore the sunglasses, was _not_ supposed to be there. In fact his being there was dangerous; he was risking a lot by standing in the back, trying his best to look incognito in normal clothes; but, he had to be there. It took a lot to get these criminals this far into the 'justice' system and today would be the day that everyone's honest work would pay off. Bruce Wayne stood there not as himself; but, as Batman, he knew it wasn't the right thing to do. A billionaire playboy looking at a trail; people would wonder why he was there and he wouldn't have a good enough answer. But Batman demanded that he be there and see these criminals put in prison; so he stood there watching the two men.

The first time Batman had to deal with Killer Croc he underestimated him completely. The sheer strength of this man was mind boggling. It took two weeks of tracking, fighting and sneaking to bring down Croc; which he did in the sewers. Batman won; but, Bruce Wayne suffered two broken ribs and a concussion. It wasn't long after that Croc escaped and Batman went after him again; the difference was that this time, Croc was expecting Batman. After almost being maimed and killed; Batman enlisted the help of James Gordon, using him to do some tricky bait work using an armored truck and monopoly money. Croc fell for the trick and Batman was able to bring him down with the help of Gordon. Bruce assumed he'd try to escape again; but, he hadn't and in fact was cited for 'good behavior' in jail. But that was almost a year ago and now, finally, Croc was being brought to justice. Bruce stood watching with Batman's eyes and saw a defeat in Croc; that was good; maybe this would be the end. Maybe now Gotham could start to walk on it's own two feet, maybe now, Batman could disappear…

Two-thirty

Two-forty five

Three O' Clock

There was no Harvey Dent; people began to leave; it wasn't common for something like this to happen; today was one of the biggest losses in Gotham's history.

Where Was Harvey Dent?

Even Bruce felt the sadness; the defeat; it was worse when the guards led off Croc and Edward Nigma. At that point Bruce decided he would leave; this was almost too big of a disappointment to deal with; so he turned and left.

This sentiment was the same for James Gordon; he stood on the opposite end of the courtroom and watched as Killer Croc and 'Riddler' were led out of the main room. He cursed several times to himself and adjusted his glasses; this wasn't the end though. Dent would be contacted sometime before tomorrow and a makeup date would be announced; but the year mark was only three days away. Once the year passed the two would have to be let go; that was the law. Between the corruption and debates, it had taken this long to get them into a court, so much so that they had to prosecuted together. Harvey Dent was needed; he was announced as D.A.; it was also law that Prosecutors for the state could not be changed; as to avoid complications with letting these criminals get away. Ironic that that particular law was now a threat to these dangerous men getting away; there was nothing else to do here; Gordon stood there really in disbelief. His mind was a blur with the stark realization that today would _not_ be the day it happened; today would not be Gotham's triumphant moment. Gordon sighed and took off his glasses to rub his eyes. It didn't take long for him to put them back on and go towards the exit and that's when he saw him. Something was so shocking about it; that it made him stop walking. He only caught a glimpse; but, he saw him. Leaving the courthouse was Bruce Wayne; Gotham billionaire, with enough money to be doing whatever he wanted, leaving here. It was strange; why would Bruce Wayne be here? Something stirred within Gordon and he continued to leave the courthouse and he knew everyone was wondering the same thing.

Where Was Harvey Dent?


	6. The Revenge

_His backhand was intense; the force of it was enough to knock the wind out of your lungs and the thoughts out of your mind. That's precisely what it did now; the boy fell to the wet floor with a loud wet clap from his body meeting the tiles. The boy bounced from the impact briefly and hit the ground again less violently. Behind him was the shower/bath and to his left was the sink; the window to the bathroom was open and on his right side and the entrance was ahead of him; but the man in the brown coat was blocking it. 'Escape' was not an option; that was one word you put out of your mind when one frequently was involved in a situation like this one. One realized that escape was a sense of time and not a sense of direction or rather a destination. One would have to wait until the threat had passed and subsided to really escape and even then one wasn't 'out of the woods'; but, rather not the target of the enemy. It was a sad state when you had to wish ill will on another to avoid your own destruction. But even at the early age of seven he knew that sometimes you had to think the wrong things for the right things to be done. What instance was it when your home, the placed you lived, the place you saw everyday became a haven for ill thoughts and rude mannerisms. What second; what minute was it where one wished that the house would burn, just so that the process of starting over, the pain of losing it all would overcome the hate and the hurt that already existed? Is that the same instance in which a boy becomes a man? If so then this boy was a man a while ago; and so he was being beaten like a man. A cut above his eyebrow came from a direct punch to his face; the punch was like a sledgehammer to a cantaloupe; he felt the pressure crush something on him and send him reeling to the ground. The bathroom was spinning all of the ornaments were switching sides, windows became trap doors on the ground, sinks became odd light fixtures on the ceiling and do forward and so on. Dizziness was not a way out of torture; especially in the eyes of a psychopath. You save yourself; you keep quiet, avoid eye contact, quick motions; anything that will upset a person of this psychopathic magnitude, most of all you never strike, or strike back depending on the situation. But this time he did; this time he yelled back and got knocked back. His feet kicked a bit wildly; pushing his body backwards, until his head hit the porcelain finish of the toilet. The construction in the bathroom had been going on for months now; so long that the sheet destroyed look of it was no longer an eye sore for the residents; the stepped over the pipe; were careful not to turn the shower or the sink on too fast; they kept the window up to let out the smell of reapplied paint. The mess became a common thing; but, this other mess; this mess of the mind was not something one could easily get used to._

_With rage in his eyes; he stomped into the bathroom yelling. Yelling was like the slow churn on a rollercoaster as it went up right before the fall. You knew something worse was coming; some kind of sick; adrenaline filled release; so the more he yelled; the closer he came to that final explosion; that orgasm of rage. From nowhere a woman; not the woman, came from the living room and pulled on him to distract him. This worked minutely; with no more than a shrug he was able to knock the screaming woman down; she already beaten she couldn't do much more. The man wanted him and he knew it. This lust for destruction; just the thought of him fighting back was enough to cause him such anger that he couldn't see straight. _

_The man reached out an arm and grabbed him by the collar; he screamed some more and his breath, reeking of alcohol and guilty mints, slapped his face with such force that he had to look away. Apparently the motion offended the man so he threw him back to the ground and his head hit the toilet. The floor felt cool and smooth; but, that was only because the cut on his head was starting to release a stream of ruby red blood across the floor. _

_What was one to do?_

_At a time like this sometimes, people have a surge of adrenaline; women whose babies have been run over suddenly get the strength to lift up the car and snatch the baby. No one can explain where or what part of the human mind determines when rage is a valuable asset to assist in survival. Perhaps now; adrenaline would pump through his body and cause him to summon up something that would put an end to this torture; maybe the fear would melt away (or at least be masked by such sheer anger) and he would be able to do something that would dispel the efforts of this villain and cause some sort of counter action. _

_Alas nothing of that nature came of that; there was no surge of anger; but there was something. Something he had never felt before; it was anger, it was hate; but it was not some sort of chemical or hormonal imbalance this was something deep within him. It began to talk; it yelled; just like this man did; but it yelled to be released; so that it could protect and fight back. His throat burned with words that were not his own; his mind raced with thoughts that were not his own; his finger twitched with actions that he could not think of on his own. His chest seemed to collapse; the same feeling one gets when they fear uncontrollably a harsh burn of reality. He knew there was nothing to keep him from taking the actions. His body was moving and yet he was not doing it; someone else was controlling him; he was suddenly, with such quickness, not his own._

_His arm snatched quickly to the left and easily picked up the heavy pipe and swung with such precision and joy. The smack of the pipe was loud and clear sounding like the chime of a tuning fork in an empty spiral stairway; the man spun left and hit the ground with a smack. The boy quickly stood up; his hair thrown in front of his face; but, he wasn't doing this; he was watching this; his body was moving on his own; and this voice was just yelling in his mind. His arms lifted above his head and the pipe was in position to come down like a bunt guillotine._

"_Harvey!" Her voice was like a celestial spear; it went right through his body into his soul; the voice in his mind screamed as loud as it could in protest; and in a flash he was suddenly in control again. A young Harvey Dent stood with the pipe in his hands one hundred percent confused as to what had just happened. Quickly his legs fell from under him and his father clawed his way back into standing. He yelled some more; but, instead of the strength Harvey began to cry. The man went to kick him; but, blue uniforms came from around the corner and grabbed him. Madly he jerked around trying to get free; like an animal in a noose. The police held him still; a woman, a different woman, not his mother; swept him up and ran outside._

"_MOM…!" Harvey yelled. "MOMMY…!"_

_But to no avail; within seconds he was in a police cruiser next to the one his father was being put in. From the window he could see his father looking at him; and he knew then he would never forget that look. His life was broken; and something within him had made its escape. His cruiser left first and his mother burst out the front door screaming frantically; but, Harvey didn't yell back. He sat there silent; bewildered and torn. _

The wind blew softly; Gotham summer days were a pain in the ass; but, the nights were comfortable. Something about the air was able to clear people's mind and give a clarity that was needed in a city of such crime. The cool breeze along with the warm blanket of warm humidity; were a great combination for what life was supposed to be like. Despite the crime rate, slightly, rising people would always take to the streets on summer nights to just be out in the open air. It was the closest thing to nature; and probably sanity.

After 'the incident' with the Batsignal; and whatever happened with Batman and the life of Raymond Fernandez; relations between Batman and James Worthington Gordon dropped. Batman disappeared for two months and reappeared to take on Killer Croc; but, James Gordon was forced to intervene and save Batman. There was a shaky; but, new foundation between the two men. The fact of the matter was that James Gordon wasn't sure if he could trust Batman anymore; he _knew _Batman had killed those people including Fernandez and Chaderline Brummer; when he arrived it was carnage and he wasn't sure what to do. Initially he was going to join the witch hunt for Batman; there was (and will never be) an excuse for murder unless one was in mortal danger themselves and had a gun to their head. However, Gordon felt that perhaps Batman was pushed to the edge; plus Gordon didn't feel Batman was a enemy; so he didn't do anything when the politicians began to call for Batman's head. But when they began to implicate him for murder charges Gordon did something unexpected; he publicly announced that Batman was not the enemy and that corruption in the city was trying to push Batman out. He came under an amazing amount of scrutiny and was instantly labeled the "bat lover". He almost lost his job; but, was smart enough to fight back. When Killer Croc escaped prison he went after the same politicians who talked against Batman and Gordon; because naturally, they were corrupt and on Croc's bad side. Croc was out for a total of three weeks, four days, seventeen hours, six minutes and fifty five seconds. Batman's sudden reappearances was seen as triumphant; but, the truth of the matter was that Croc had anticipated his coming after him, and severely damaged Batman, slicing open the back of his neck. Gordon stepped in and shot Croc in the arm; preventing Croc from delivering a fatal blow and also allowing Batman to deliver an electrical charge to Croc disabling him. Batman did not justify his actions with Chaderline Brummer and Raymond Fernandez; but, did admit to killing them.

This was the first Gordon had ever heard of LSRD; and was surprise to see that Batman admit to suffering from it after the explosion. He explained the two months of absence were two months of healing physically and mentally.

"I'm not one hundred percent better…" Batman said to Gordon. "…Your help in my absence is greatly appreciated; but, your help now will help even more." Gordon wouldn't forget that; Batman had come to him for help. Since then they had kept in contact; every time helping their relationship more. Now Batman wasn't just a figure in the dark anymore; he was a man; doing the right thing at extreme cost. Something in Gordon knew that Batman was what the city needed the most.

So now he stood next to the newly installed Batsignal waiting for Batman to arrive; he lit a cigarette in his anticipation.

"Aren't you suppose to be quitting?" a voice said; Gordon threw down the cigarette before taking a drag. Though tonight was splendid in weather; it wasn't a good night. Gordon turned the signal off and the diffusion of the glaring light revealed a shadowy figure. Gordon stalked around a bit; as Batman watched him.

"Harvey Dent didn't show up in the court today." Gordon finally spoke; Batman didn't move.

"I know…" He walked closer to Gordon. "…I heard nothing about him being detained in any way." Batman added.

"That's because he wasn't…" Gordon said quickly almost cutting Batman off. "…as far as we know." Gordon turned to face Batman and the dark knight (as the press was recently calling him) Gordon felt his face harden and stick with a tough frown.

"You seem more upset than I am." Batman commented; Gordon nodded.

"This can't happen…" Gordon started. "…There's not enough time; if these people don't go to prison I'm not sure what will happen to this city." Gordon explained.

"How much time do we have left?" Batman asked; Gordon sighed and looked at his watch.

"Two days in forty minutes." Gordon answered.

"Then what?" Batman asked.

"Then; they'll be released; the law can't hold them in holding cells forever." Gordon answered; there was a tension in the air.

"Can prosecutes be switched?" Batman asked; Gordon shook his head; clearly he had been thinking of this.

"Not legally." Gordon answered.

"Do you want me to visit Harvey Dent?" Batman asked; Gordon shook his head again.

"No" he answered tersely.

"Do you trust Harvey Dent?" Batman asked; that's when Gordon turned away from Batman.

"No…" he talked directly to the street. "…I believe in Harvey Dent."

"I believe in something else…" Batman spoke.

"What is that?" Gordon turned as he asked; but, Batman was gone; and Gordon stood on the roof; with the cool night air; thinking of a future that was too close.

"_What do you want from me?"_

**Sometime Else…**

"I'm not sure if I should be jealous or not Bruce…" Selena Kyle spoke directly into Bruce's face; something, not many people did in his life. Which was one of the reasons he admired her so much; there wasn't any kind of fear that laid deep within her. Selena was truly brave; but, even more so cautious. Bruce knew to watch his words; she would dissect them without even lifting her eyebrow and see right through any ill planned facade he could come up with.

"About?" Bruce asked; unsure of what she was referring to. Selena came to the table holding a newspaper in hand and gave Bruce a sharp look.

"About the other person you're seeing" Selena raised an eyebrow; and Bruce began to become confused.

"What?" He asked; suddenly Selena's face lit up and she rolled her eyes.

"Don't start planning the make up dinner Bruce…" She said with a sigh of boredom; sometimes Bruce wasn't enough a challenge for her ironically. "…I'm talking abut this." She threw a newspaper across the table and it landed upside down in front of Bruce; without much thought Bruce turned the newspaper over and in huge bold letters it read.

**THE DYNAMIC DUO**

Under the headline was a picture of Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson sitting at a table in a swanky restaurant that Bruce didn't remember ever being in. Bruce smiled.

"That's a fine picture of me if I may say so myself."

Under the picture was a caption: _Above: Billionaires night out: Gotham Playboy Bruce Wayne and newcomer playboy Richard 'Dick' Grayson chew the fat at the swanky 'Ninja' restaurant in midtown; but, one can wonder with all of this partying is Bruce Wayne running Wayne industries into the ground?_

"Though I can't blame you he is a good looking guy…" Selena said as she sat next to Bruce; Bruce chuckled.

"I have to admit; I really like the guy…" Bruce began. "…He's smart; he's funny; trustworthy, not to mention-" Bruce went on.

"All things he and I share in common; though I don't see you spending as much time with me." Selena commented.

"True; but, it's not every day you meet a billionaire who's dependable." Bruce explained.

"You're telling _me…_?" Selena asked with disbelief. "…This coming from the man whose nights are filled with mystery and days are spent in business meetings."

"I apologize for that…" Bruce said; rubbing her head behind her hair. "…Though you've got to admit this guy is something else."

"I do agree; he's very muscular and fit…" Selena started. "…much like you except he doesn't break some sort of bone every week." Selena added; Bruce smiled.

"I'm sorry Selena am I beginning to bore you in this relationship?" Bruce asked jokingly.

"Well Bruce…" Selena started. "…A girl has needs." She commented.

Bruce smiled again; she was a different kind of woman; she was just like no other. 'A girl has needs.' Just in that simple statement; she had evoked so much feeling within him. Bruce knew more and more each day that he loved her more than he had loved anything else in his life.

"Does she…?" Bruce asked. "…like what?"

"She has the _need_ to be taken to fancy restaurants in a fancy dress, eating a _fancy_ dinner that she really doesn't enjoy; but, the sheer fact of being there is enough for her to enjoy the food she wouldn't normally eat." Selena explained.

"She _needs _those things?" Bruce asked again.

"Desperately." She added with an overdramatic sigh.

"…and what if I can't provide these necessities?" Bruce asked; Selena tapped the newspaper.

"I'm sure there's another billionaire in this city that is willing to do that for me." Selena said; Bruce pinched her; which she hated in a playful way; she quickly caught his hand; and this time she gripped it; Bruce was slightly shocked at her speed and strength; he tried to release his wrist from her grip with a quick jerk; but, nothing more than jerk her arm as well. Selena held his arm there staring him deep in his eye.

"I hate when you do that." She growled; Bruce made a funny face of surprise and she laughed; in her joy she released him and he sat back rubbing his wrist. He'd have to let Alfred look at it later; just to be sure.

"Well I promise in the near future to take you to _Ninja_ if you want to go." Bruce said; Selena flashed him a look over her shoulder.

"You can't take me to someplace you've taken your other date." Selena said; she was out the room before Bruce could reply; but, he said to himself.

"Guess I'll have to try a little harder then…"

_"I want to help you Harv…"_

**The Day After…**

Richard Grayson leaned over close to Bruce Wayne.

"Listen we both know there's something else; to all of this…" He gestured vaguely to the rest of the world. "…but what is it?"

"What do you mean?" Bruce asked; curious.

"I mean this…" Grayson leaned back. "…I wasn't born rich; I was actually poor; but, somehow, by some twist of fate, I am now. So I dedicate myself to making equipment that can help people; what's the point of living a life and not being able to do anything with it…?" Grayson asked.

"I don't know…" Bruce answered. "…but I have a feeling you're going to elaborate."

"It's nothing Bruce…" Grayson answered; seemingly disregarding Bruce quick witted comment. "…one has to strive for something other than making more money to be fulfilled." Grayson suggested.

"Sure; but what's you're point?" Bruce asked.

"My point is this…" Grayson looked Bruce right in the eye. "…_You_ have some sort of fulfillment in your life that you keep secret." Bruce sat back; and grinned; it was an odd thing to say and Bruce wasn't expecting that at all.

"I give to charities…" Bruce shrugged.

"Cut the bullshit Bruce…" Grayson said with such force. "...I've known you for a little while now; I can tell when you're avoiding something." Grayson explained.

"Is that so?" Bruce answered calmly.

"It is; and I know you've got something you haven't told anyone…" Grayson said. "…I also know this; it's beginning to take its toll." Grayson added.

"What do you mean?"

"It's impossible for a human being to hold a secret; of whatever magnitude, like the one you're holding, without sacrificing something important. You need release, someone you know you can trust." Grayson explained.

"You think that person is you?"

"It doesn't matter; what matters is that even though you sit here, aloof and seemingly uncaring something in you is wanting to come clean; so that the stress of hiding can be relieved momentarily."

"So theoretically you're trying to break me down?" Bruce asked.

"Not at all; I'm just letting you know Bruce; you can trust me…" Grayson said. "…when my parents died I didn't think I'd find anyone I'd admire like that anymore; but, when I met you I saw something. You're someone bigger than Bruce Wayne playboy billionaire aren't you?"Grayson asked; Bruce's grin didn't subside.

"I admire you're feelings; but, I think you've got me confused-" Bruce started.

"Confused with someone else…?" Grayson finished his sentence. "…Or is it that you have been denying it for so long that you can't see that it doesn't matter who you are on the other side to me. All that matters is that you remain the good person you are. So I'll ask you again. You're more than Bruce Wayne billionaire playboy aren't you?"

What was this?

What was happening? How could Richard see all of this? Something in Bruce was stirring; he could trust Richard couldn't he? He could say it right now; under his breath 'I am Batman' and Richard would lean back smile and just say something like: 'that was easy' but it was beyond that; if he knew, Richard would be in danger if anyone was to find out about his other self. So Bruce was at a stalemate.

"I am." Bruce answered; he couldn't stop his mouth from saying it; it felt _good_ to say that to Richard. Richard nodded and then shook his head.

"You're something else Bruce Wayne…" Richard Grayson said. "…Just what that is I don't know; but, I'll find out one day won't I?"

"Anything's possible." Bruce answered; and the two went on chattering over lunch; but, what they didn't see; was a hidden face in the crowd watching them with great interest from across the room and behind the same newspaper that had their faces on it. The man got up and walked right by the two men without a word.

_"Help me with what?"_

**Somewhere Else, Same Time…**

You walk everyday of your life; you walk when you want to go to the store; you walk when you go to pick your child up from school; you walk to the theater, you walk to the car, to the mailbox, to the phone booth, you walk even when you don't have any place to go; but to remind yourself that you're alive you walk.

And thusly he walked with premise into the bank; with a sharp suit on and a smile upon his face; some people took notice of him coming in; but, thought nothing of it; as well they should he was just a man walking into the bank. People in these establishments were courteous; nice, caring people who cared about the people of Gotham city.

He sat down at a tellers desk; the name plate read Margret; very different from Margaret; that extra pretentious "A" wasn't there one wouldn't have to put the extra force on the name and say Mar-Ga-Ret, it was refreshing. Her desk was tidy; some papers neatly stacked a pen in it's holder, a nice lamp; picture of her young children and father.

"Oh hello…" The woman came up to her desk and sat down; she was older; Grandkids and son probably in the photos then. He was facing her; when she came over and turned slowly to look at her. "…oh my Mr. Dent." She exclaimed.

"Hello there Margret." It felt good not to put that extra "a" in there…damn good.

"What can I do for you today?" She asked; smiling.

"I'm glad you ask; I'm here to; excuse me a moment…" He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a coin and flipped it in the air. Both he and Margret watched it go up and come down; he caught it and placed it on the back of his hand. Laying there was a heads up coin; scratched all over. Harvey smiled; and put his hand to return the coin; but this time pulled out a .22 pistol. "..I'm here to make a withdrawal."

"_Help you to get your revenge!"_


End file.
